


Half a Heritage

by narikopathfinder



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Ballet, Best Friends, Childhood, Coming of Age, F/M, Family, First Love, Friendship, Marriage, Other, figureskating - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-05-29 21:51:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15082484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narikopathfinder/pseuds/narikopathfinder
Summary: Katsuki Hiroko was not born in Japan. But few would be able to notice as over the years she has mastered the language and embraced the culture.As we know everyone has a past, and we are about to go back to get a glimpse into the life of Yelena Baranovskaya - Feltsman. A name Hiroko left behind for good, and never wanted anything to do with, it was no longer apart of her life. And what exactly was the reason she left? Mari and Yuuri have tried to ask her but to no avail.  Yuuri and Mari want to know of their heritage. Aside from the occasional Russian taught over the years. Their Japanese heritage will only be half, completed until their Russian ties reconnect.





	1. Winter Olympics 1980, Lake Placid, New York, the United States of America

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this was supposed to be apart of the Big Bang on Ice. But due to changes in my life, I had to drop out. I'd like to offer my most gracious thanks to my beta(s): Mer, Bee, Helle,topcatnikki and SqueezeBabe! For helping me with grammar and sentence structure throughout this bigger than expected project.
> 
> The first (arc) of this fic will be from Chapter 1-4.  
> Second (arc) Begins at Chapter 5. 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Comments are welcome!

The puffy grey skies grew darker by the minute, as mischievous frosted water particles tilted and danced down towards the expectant grounds .  Inside the bustling Olympic Village, the housing arrangements for the far-travelling athletes and their respective coaches were not the best - narrow prison-like rooms, which could just barely fit two athletes into one room were the standard . It was a close miracle that the national delegations of coaches had gotten rooms of their own - in this instance, one specific coach with dark brown hair, a tan hat perched atop of his head, hair just briefly gracing his ears and a rather prominent Russian nose. A matching tan coat covered his short frame (well mind you, he was, in fact, 170 cm tall, though it was a bit more of a difference once you met the wife of this particular coach). 

 

He smiled fondly as his steel grey eyes landed in the direction of his small family -  his wife Lilia Baranovskaya and their thirteen-year-old daughter Yelena, who’d been blessed with the short and stout stature of her father. Yelena’s long brown hair was captured in a braid that reached below her shoulders. She had soft brown eyes and a sharp, but pointed nose… which, according to Yelena's mother, was from the good genes of the Baranovskaya family. Yakov Feltsman could be seen as the ideal example of a proud Soviet comrade with his successful and idealistic Soviet family. His Lilia was, after all the Prima Ballerina at the Bolshoi Theatre, and Yakov was a former men’s singles figure skater who had stopped his career around the time he reached his twenty-first birthday. Yelena’s arrival had conveniently occurred only two months afterwards. He had been asked, or rather, it had been expected of him, to coach the future generations of Soviet figure skating. This would be the reason Yakov now found himself in the Olympic Village, as one of his prominent students had gained a spot to represent the Soviet Union. 

 

“Papa!? I haven’t seen you for three whole days! Do you know how much Mama has been pestering me about poise this, chin high, posture like this…” Yelena complained as much as most thirteen-year-olds would. Lilia furrowed her forest green eyes toward her only daughter and hummed with playful disapproval. 

 

“ _ Yelena Yakovna  _ Baranovskaya-Feltsman, I thought we raised you better than this. We do not make a scene in public,” Lilia reprimanded matter-of-factly. Her gaze became stern at the mirthful chuckle slipping out of Yakov's lips. 

 

“Now, now Lilia… Lecturing our Alyona about not making a scene in public. And here you are doing just that. Let her lower her shoulders outside the Soviet Union, we are in America after all.” Yakov murmured furtively to Lilia, and the younger woman's gaze softened a tad. A faint flush on her cheeks. Her posture lowered to a more relaxing absence which would rarely be seen by the public eye in their own nation. Back there, one was required to keep up appearances, especially with their strong and successful careers. 

 

“Very well, Yakov,” Lilia agreed. “Between my schedule with the company, and you being tied here for the coming two weeks, I’ve not been very successful keeping Yelena focused on her studies,." She sounded rather tired, a faint weakness she would only allow her small family to witness.

 

“Mum! I'm standing right here!?" the brunette exclaimed. “ _ I'm thirteen! I should at least be allowed to have a say when they talk above my head. Hmph.., _ ” the more vocal half of the younger girl’s psyche yelled accordingly. “And I’ve told you; I’m never going to become a prima ballerina like you, so you can stop trying to make me into one,” she groused, crossing her arms. 

 

Yakov fondly patterned his fingers through his daughter's brown hair, which was curling into waves along her scalp. “You should have more confidence in your own talents Alyona…”

he encouraged. Although he was known to give a firm voice over his assigned figure skaters, his only daughter was a soft spot for the thirty-four-year-old man. Lilia pondered at her daughter's lack of confidence - she was already well known as one of the youngest to become an understudy on the grand stage of the Bolshoi.  Yelena was easily a favourite among Lilia's colleagues; she had good manners and was humble, but once she entered the stage, and into a role, the young brunette would enchant and grab the audience’s attention.

 

“the young brunette would enchant the audience”

 

“ _ To think Alyona would become so much like us, and yet unlike us at the same time. It would be a shame if she decides to lay her ballet shoes on the shelf… _ ” Absently, the older brunette shook those thoughts away. She would not dwell on such an uncertain future; just the hope that their daughter continued with ballet after reaching her later teens. “ _ It could have been worse,” _ Lilia thought _. “She might have taken after Yakov and gone after that cold ice instead of  _ the  _ warm stage _ …” 

 

A knowing smile made its way to her lips, and it earned Lilia a questioning gaze from her shorter husband.

 

“Since we are already here, what do you say we try some of this American food we have heard so much about back in the home country?” Yakov suggested, his steel grey eyes meeting the forest green mirrors of his beloved wife. She gave a wry quirk of her lips at the thought of trying something new. 

 

“Hamburgers!?” Yelena was quick to shout out gleefully. A faint chuckle from her father, although Lilia shook her head in defeat. 

 

“Oh all right, Alyona… but only this one time. We can’t have these American foods ruin your ballet training; we do have a schedule to follow.” The teen pursed her lips at the light reminder that even if they had gotten access to the Olympic Village, she still had to watch out for what she ate. 


	2. Moscow, Soviet Union. 1984

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 enjoy ^-^

Yelena knew from experience that she gained weight easily. She managed her weight with the structured and fairly healthy assorted Soviet foods throughout the day, combined with the hours of endless practice. She had the ideal body for a young ballerina. At the age of sixteen, she was a regular understudy at the Bolshoi Ballet. At the insistence of her mother, she had been excused from the company dance rehearsals. So that she could focus on strengthening her body. Including in-depth training in the fifth and seventh position.

 

Due to the popularity and fame of her parents, many had expectations of young Yelena: 

 

_ The Next Prima Ballerina of the Bolshoi Ballet? _

 

Like her mother, Lilia. 

 

_ A new talented figure skater to represent the Soviet Union? _

 

More like her father. 

 

No. For the time being, she was happy enough with ballet. It was fun and relaxing at the same time. One of the few benefits of having famous parents within their respective performing arts was that she was able to see the world outside of the Soviet regime and skirt their stringent regulation. These accolades and advantages were earned through the hard work of her parents, their achievements casting daunting shadows. There were a few times she felt like she was never as good as others supposedly claimed, but young Yelena was informed she was very talented; if only she had more confidence in herself.     

 

The large grey clouds had gathered over the streets of Moscow, and the rain drizzled into filthy slivers along smog- and factory-smoke-clad walls. Droplets of water danced against weary windows, giving a view into the room of Yelena Baranovskaya-Feltsman, now an older teenager. Posters clad the walls in Soviet propaganda, while the inside of her cabinets was emblazoned with posters of Michael Jackson; his risqué hip movements captured within. She had dedicated her second wardrobe to Bonnie Tyler, too; the music and imagery of western pop culture had captured her imagination at a young age, seeping into her subconscious after her first trip to America, and exposure to the cultures surrounding the Olympics.

 

The shelves above her door held international awards. Yelena's national Soviet awards were proudly displayed in the living room.

“Baranovskaya and Feltsman can show nothing but absolute loyalty towards the Soviet Union as exemplary comrades of the successful USSR,” Yelena repeated unhappily to herself, a pencil tracing over a worn notebook. 

 

She was expected to focus solely on the performing arts and not so much on general schooling… bringing pride to her country with ballet, just like her mother, Lilia Baranovskaya. So now, the brown-haired sixteen-year-old hunched ungracefully over her desk, attempting to come up with new choreography that would impress the next set of government officials ready to see the Pride of Mother Russia. 

 

“If I... start with a sequence here…. No... no. Better start with an arabesque.” The pencil scratched a stubborn lead line over the airy sketches in the notebook, its owner mumbling out familiar positions. There were only a few months out of the year that the Bolshoi dancers, actors, and musicians had time to plan for their new season. That the creation of recitals, concerts, and theatre performances was squeezed into such a short space of time had Yelena on edge as she worked. 

 

However, the house was not filled with much background noise. Her father was at his rink, training new gold medalists. Her mother was...

 

“Making the new recruits at the dance academy suffer through her standards of basic perfectionism… I'm certain of that…” Yelena muttered absently, her soft brown eyes furrowed with loneliness. 

 

Not long after the Olympics in 1980, once they had returned to the Soviet Union, Yakov and Lilia had been expected to push their experience and talents onto younger generations. It left Yelena mostly alone... and she could count on two hands how many times her parents had been home at the same time to sleep in their own bed in the past three years. 

 

She was, in fact, surprised they were still married. They were so focused on their careers, it was more than once that she has watched them pass each other, barely having hours to spare for themselves before their work demanded their attention once more. Yelena no longer believed they could be her real parents; they were just so different from  _ normal people _ . 

  
  
  


“Should I take a  tombé ... here... or is it better to switch that out with a jump...?” A frustrated sigh filtered through her lips; it was far too quiet. Her brown eyes travelled across the room to where her record player and records were hidden from sight in her more-than-average-sized nightstand. The echoes of wooden legs scraping against the linoleum floor resounded along the bedroom.

 

Sock-covered feet padded over to the hidden music stand. She opened the doors and brushed her fingers over the flimsy dust covers, which shielded the records from being ruined. A smug grin curled over her lips as the song title “Kids in America” made itself known to her eyes. 

 

“ Ohhh... mother and father will love listening to this when they come back home,” she mused with rebellious glee, before sobering, “If they come back home, ” Yelena muttered thoughtfully. Soon enough the lyrics struck a few cords against Yelena's own loneliness. And she found herself grateful toward her American friends for keeping in touch with her via letters and smuggled packages, hidden from the theatre she and her mother had been visiting as representatives of the Bolshoi ballet three years ago. 

 

She swiped up the volume to full strength so the bass thrummed against the walls of her bedroom, very likely making the fine porcelain cabinet of Lilia's own collection quiver nervously against the vibrations. A pair of shoes shuffled against the polished floor until a set of heels interrupted the early evening atmosphere of the concrete apartment corridor. Forest green eyes and steel grey met by the last set of stairs. 

 

“Yakov...is it alright for you to be home this early?” Lilia queried softly, as her usual tense posture visibly relaxed. It had been some time since she had seen Yakov; their schedules had been more and more difficult to work around.

 

“Lilia, I could say the same about you. Are you certain the ballet academy will not crumble apart without your presence?” Yakov expressed as a fond smile made itself known over his lips. 

 

He held out his arm for Lilia, she graciously accepted and returned the smile towards her husband. Yakov leant closer and properly greeted his wife with three kisses on each cheek and lastly one kiss upon Lilia's lips. 

 

The brunette felt the faint heat crawl up her cheeks. It had been months since she had been able to share a kiss with Yakov. They had rather demanding careers and people to please after all, which left little room for more martial matters. 

 

Lilia and Yakov ventured towards their apartment door. Keys went into the door, but Lilia suddenly pursed her lips. 

 

“You hear that noise Yakov?” she questioned. Yakov's brows furrowed as he leant against the door, there was a distinct racket echoing from their apartment.

 

“Yes, how on earth did Alyona come by such a menace?” Yakov mumbled quietly while hoping that none of their neighbours had been bothered by such unsavoury music. The two of them hurriedly went inside the apartment, closing the doors behind them. They hung their coats along the wall and contentedly slipped their feet into their house slippers. Lilia was prepared to reprimand their daughter, but then there was a firm hand on her shoulder. 

 

A faint whisper from Yakov. “Let me handle this? We wouldn't want to alert the more idle gossipers, and we cannot have the government learn of Yelena's rebellious nature.” 

 

Lilia frowned, her lips thinning. Yakov did have valid reasoning; the Baranovskaya-Feltsman family was held in high esteem because of their successful careers, but if it became known that Yelena was not the humble and talented star, the future of Soviet propaganda and ballet... at the very worst, they would be branded as traitors, sent to a gulag, or worse, executed. Even just the thought of her little girl doing something so dangerous in such a flagrant manner, made Lilia’s stomach clench in worry. There was only so much protection afforded by fame, even within the Soviet; and Yelena was pushing against boundaries she couldn’t understand the repercussions of breaking. There was no allowance for teenaged willfulness in the purview of the KGB. 

 

Yakov's heavy steps vibrated against the wooden planks, one foot tramped against the bottom of the stairs. As his hand shook with unrestrained anger towards his daughter. Yakov took one steadying breath, gathering air into his lungs. 

 

“Yelena Baranovskaya-Feltsman! Turn down that racket before the neighbours start complaining!” Yakov hissed through the closed door. Yelena's body stiffened and shot up from her chair at the sound of her father's disapproving voice. 

 

The chair clattered back against the floor. The sixteen-year-old brunette begrudgingly went over to the cabinet and turned off the record player. Yelena turned on the heels of her feet, stalked over to her desk, and raised her hand.   Yelena turned on the heels of her feet, stalked over to her desk and raised her hand above it, bringing it down viciously against the unfortunate books above her desk, and crashing down against the wooden surface, dislodging a few books that tumbled down onto the bedroom floor. As she simmered with anger. Her eyes travelled over the mess she had created 

 

“Why did I… oh yes… can't play  _ fun music _ in this house,” Yelena grumbled. She stalked towards her bedroom door and opened it, taking one deep breath, and yelled back. 

 

“As if your racket won’t be heard by those nosy neighbours!” 

 

Yakov's ears pricked up at the crude reply, as a dangerously red hue of anger painted itself across his face.   

 

Down in the kitchen, Lilia merely raised an eyebrow at her husband decided to yell, rather loudly, at their daughter's rebellious music taste. An exasperated sigh filtered through her lips. 

 

“What shall I tell the neighbours… to explain this,” Lilia muttered, one keen eye focused on the soup simmering on the stove. Her ears pricked at the thumping echo of some things… falling down.

 

“Ah… Yakov has done it now.” 

 

Lilia remarked and turned half an ear to her husband and daughter bickering with each other. Yelena's footsteps were heavier than usual as they descended down the stairs and most certainly not befitting of a ballerina at the Bolshoi. Father and daughter bickered all the way to the kitchen. 

 

Until they were met by Lilia Baranovskaya withering glare. 

 

“Alyona, such behaviour is unbecoming of a future prima ballerina of the Bolshoi.”

 

The brunette was about to retort to her mother’s admonishing lecture but was cut short, as, apparently, bickering with her father had made her mother cross with the both of them. 

 

“Enough! We’re having dinner now.” Lilia remarked and pointed at one of the chairs near their kitchen table. 

 

Yakov wisely decided to avoid further risking Lilia's crisp temper and dutifully sat down at the dinner table like a good husband would after a long day’s work at the rink.

 

The tension in the kitchen was more tangible today, as the Baranovskaya-Feltsman family ate their soup. Darkening brown eyes glared into the bowl of borscht. Yelena regretted yelling--as if that could make things better --but her thoughts wandered as she considered the cause of it all.

 

_ Why don't they understand how oppressive this is?… the music I listen to most of the time is classical. Even I get sick of it, still, I'm required to listen and practice till the blisters on my feet burst, patch them up, and continue with the routine. _

 

She shuffled her feet against the kitchen chair and winced lightly. It stung her most recent blister which she had just burst earlier today. 

 

“Alyona...are you hurt?”  Yakov queried, a bit softer than before.

 

“It's fine; just another blister,” Yelena replied curtly. 

 

“Alyona! Show your father some respect.”  Lilia tapped her hand firmly across her sixteen-year-old’s wrist. 

 

The girl cried out immediately in pain at the action.

Her tender skin ached faintly afterwards.. Yelena's lip quivered, and she could feel the tears threatening to slide down her cheeks. Abruptly, she rose from her seat, eyes downcast, as she said neutrally,”I'm done eating. I'll be working on my routine for the rest of the evening. Good night.”

 

Lilia nodded and gestured to her daughter. She was excused from the table. Not long after their daughter's departure, Lilia pursed her lips and frowned at the contents of her borscht. 

 

“It’s not the same when Alyona's not one of our students…” Yakov said genuinely, shuffling his chair closer so he could provide some comfort to his wife. 

 

“It’s for her own good, Yakov. I don't want to think that our little Alyona could be sent to a gulag. What would they do if they found out about this… this…” Lilia murmured as she waved her wrist in a half-circle for emphasis. 

 

“I know, Lilia…I know… but Alyona is strong, even though she might not see that herself, if at all… tonight showed she’s certainly our daughter,” Yakov replied gently, as his hand caressed Lilia's cheek. A small smile lurked at the edges of the former ballerina's lips as she allowed herself to feel the warmth of Yakov's hand against her cheek. 


	3. Thinking on Ice in 1984. 1986 soon arrives a Summer Camp on the horizon!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 enjoy ^-^

The automatic sliding doors opened and the reception desk came into view. An older woman sat behind the desk, shifting her focus between a typewriter and a computer. One half-hearted glance to see who would be coming to the rink at this late hour. As a fond smile graced her lips while watching the young woman tap her shoes against doormat as snow fell off in lumps. 

 

“Well, well Princess Alyona has returned. Have a lot on your mind?” the old receptionist asked as Yelena flustered at the old nickname. Simply because she was the daughter of Yakov Feltsman, she had automatically become the princess of the rink where her father trained his figure skaters. 

 

“Yes, you could say that…”

 

The old receptionist giggled knowingly and made a shooing motion down the hall. 

 

“Well then, you know where I put your skates. And I trust you are old enough to not need supervision?”

 

“I'm sixteen now. I can't risk the possibility of getting injured, my mum would never let me hear the end of it. And dad… he would be much the same… with a few more selective swears…” Yelena muttered, only to hear the faint chuckle from the receptionist as she walked inside the rink hall. Yelena made certain to tie the laces of her skates, as she reached down to pick up a hair tie and tie her brown tresses into a low ponytail. Yelena pushed away from the side of the rink. It had been a few months since she’d been on the ice. She was a little out of sync, but after a few rounds of compulsory figures, she felt it would be safe to try a few other things. The cold air stung over Yelena's warm cheeks, as her skates carved a figure eight into the smooth ice. She smiled and slid out of her pattern, one foot pushing the other forward. 

 

_ There's something special about having the ice to myself. No expectant eyes, no need for me to be the daughter of Madame Lilia Baranovskaya and Yakov Feltsman... _

 

Yelena increased her speed as her flexible body flew into the air –  _ This is just me....flying...I can do this! –  _ and rotated once, twice, three times as she slid back down on the ice. 

“That was a clean triple Salchow you just did, Yelena!” an excited voice shouted from the rinkside. 

 

_ Who!?  _

 

Yelena staggered into the next step sequence; her arms outstretched, although her ankle wobbled. She was surprised to see someone else at the rink this late. Yelena pursed her lips in annoyance as she skated closer to get a better look at the person who interrupted her thoughts. 

 

“Alexei…? I thought I was the only one here at this hour,” Yelena mused as she recognised the other person as one of her father's students. 

 

“I was practising the footwork for my short programme,” Alexei answered with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. 

 

“But I haven't seen you skate since you were ten. I thought you would be too busy at the Bolshoi Academy. How were you able to skate a clean triple Salchow?” 

 

Yelena frowned and crossed her arms defiantly. “Just because I leant more toward ballet doesn’t mean that I stopped skating. Usually, no one’s around to see.” 

 

“Why wouldn't you want people to see? Your footwork is good, and you already have a triple Salchow down. And I remember that you already could do a single and double lutz when you were ten. Yakov would’ve been so happy if you had continued with figure skating…” 

 

“I have enough attention on me as it is. When my parents are that famous, skating alone…  it just gives me space to think.” 

 

“Yelena, there's a lot of pressure on you, right?” Alexei asked, only to receive a nod from Yelena. 

 

“Mm, Lyosha…? Think you can keep this a secret, seeing me here, I mean?” Yelena muttered while sliding her toe pick against the ice.    
  


“On one condition… let me watch you skate? You really shouldn't be alone at the rink this late.”

~Fukuoka, Saga Prefecture, Japan.1986~

 

The quickened pace of violins echoed in the large dance studio. Tchaikovsky's “Nutcracker Suite Op 71a” created a sombre, disciplined atmosphere, as the single figure of eighteen-year-old Yelena Baranovskaya-Feltsman moved across the boards. 

 

“Yelena, that is all well and good! But keep your chin higher – no, no, your arms need to curve more before you jump!” 

 

Yelena was getting oh so tired of the constant corrections from her dance instructor. She had been doing the same routine over and over for three hours now. And with only one twelve minute break; luckily she had been granted a snack before continuing. 

 

“Yes, Madame Katrina…” the younger girl murmured, ballet shoes intact as she started from the top of the routine. The faint instruments of the piece filtered through the ballet studio from the stereo, which was huddled on top of a large wooden table, and had seen better days. 

 

The group classes had ended for the day, and some had more individualised classes throughout the afternoon. Brown eyes furrowed as they expressed a longing to go outside and perhaps do something else besides just dancing ballet. 

 

Wooden barre bars lined the high windows; a quarter of the studio's walls were covered in high mirrors.  Although the surrounding buildings partially blocked the view, beyond those windows, one could catch the sun distantly playing with the large lake surrounding Ohori Park.

 

“No dawdling, Yelena! Or would you prefer that I have Madame Lilia supervise your practice?” 

 

The brunette's back stiffened. She traced the tip of her ballet shoe against the wooden floors. She straightened her back slowly while she pulled her facial features into a familiar scowl that would make her father proud.

 

“There’s no use in assuming that I’ll comply the moment you bring up Madame Baranovskaya,” Yelena groused. 

 

All the while, she greatly disliked the idea that bringing up her mother, as a ploy to make her listen, would help at all. But that was just fine by Yelena; they wanted her to take this like a professional.

 

Then she would not communicate with her mother, while they had company rehearsals. Unless directly spoken, the duration of this unique Bolshoi Ballet summer camp in Fukuoka.    

 

For Madame Katrina, however, meeting the all-too-familiar, disapproving brown eyes...The older woman restrained a shudder. 

 

_ Ah, seems like I hit a nerve…and those who say that Yelena is nothing like her parents…how wrong they were... _ Katrina mulled over her wandering thoughts absently before she restarted the music again. Tomorrow would be the opening day for their very first attempt at a ballet summer camp. 

 

Katrina briefly recalled the surprising and welcoming letter that arrived at the Bolshoi and the corresponding eager letters from hopeful young Japanese ballet dancers. 

 

Just one hour and twelve minutes south-west of Fukuoka, laid the coastal town of Hasetsu, also in the Saga prefecture. Hasetsu was well known for its many traditional inns and natural hot springs, such as Yu-topia Katsuki. 

 

At said hot spring, the sliding door opened and a pair of school shoes were neatly placed in the genkan. 

 

“Toshi-kun!? Are you home…?” a woman in her mid-twenties called into the entrance hall of the inn. Shoulder length brown hair brushed against her back, as she slid her feet into a pair of guest slippers. An older man came through the hallway opposite her, a fond smile on his lips. 

 

“Ah, Minako-chan! We haven't seen you for some time.” 

 

Minako smiled sheepishly and bowed towards the older man. “I'm sorry, Uncle Takeru, I’ve been busy with my university classes.” 

 

“Looking for Toshiya?” the older man asked, only to receive an excited nod from Minako. She clutched an envelope in her hand. Takeru’s eyes tilted at the sight of the strange, foreign characters scrawled upon it. 

 

“Yes! I got accepted to that summer camp I applied to. I wanted to ask Toshi-kun if he could drive me to Fukuoka, to save money on train tickets!” Minako exclaimed. 

 

“Toshiya is scrubbing the outer onsen…” Takeru supplied, his wooden sandals clicking against the wooden floors. 

 

Minako shouted her thanks and sprinted through the crisscrossing hallways of the old inn until she hurriedly ran through the changing rooms and out into the onsen. Toshiya's ears perked at the sound of the sliding door opening, his dark eyes turning to see his childhood friend. 

 

“Mina-chan!? What are you doing here?” Toshiya questioned and stopped his chore, knowing full well that Minako had run into the onsen to tell him something important. For the safety of his own ears. Toshiya held his palms against them. And Minako raised her voice excitedly. 

 

“I got accepted, Toshiya! I'll be able to train under Lilia Baranovskaya and the Bolshoi Ballet this summer!” Minako jumped from one foot to the other as she relayed the good news. 

 

“Congratulations, Mina-chan. I know how much you wanted to be accepted. She's like, world famous isn't she?” the younger of the two asked as he took a seat at the edge of the onsen. 

 

“Yes, she used to be a prima ballerina at  _ the _ Bolshoi Theatre, Toshiya.”

 

“Yeah, you told me, all right… more times than I can remember…”Toshiya quipped. He could see the wide-eyed gaze Minako gave him.

  
  


She pursed her lips into a thin line and almost immediately rapped her knuckles against his chest.

 

"Baka Toshi!" 

 

“Ah… haha… sorry, Mina-chan; I yield, okay!?” 

 

“Hmph, I thought you were my best friend, Toshi-kun,” Minako whined childishly. 

 

Toshiya sighed and awkwardly patted the top of his friend's head in a comforting gesture. “Want me to give you a ride into Fukuoka for that ballet camp?” he offered. 

 

“You mean that?” Minako's honest, dark eyes smiled with hope. 

 

“Of course I do; the train tickets are twelve hundred yen. We’d both save some money; I get to help out at my part-time job, and you can attend your ballet camp..” Toshiya murmured matter-of-factly.

“...shiya! Is Mina-chan staying for dinner?” Toshiya's mother shouted all the way from the kitchens of the inn. 

 

“Yes, she's staying, Okaasan!”

 

“But Toshi-kun, it’s katsudon today. You know I can't mess up my diet,” Minako complained as her stomach growled faintly at the thought of something more filling than just plain vegetables and tofu. 

 

“Honestly, Mina-chan, one bowl of katsudon is not going to ruin your figure. And it seems like your stomach agrees with me…” Toshiya teased smugly as a faint flush crept up Minako's cheeks. 

 

“…You are such a traitor…” she muttered to her stomach accusingly. 

 

Toshiya chuckled and rose from his seat, holding out his hand for his childhood friend. “Shall we go?”  Minako grinned and grasped around Toshiya's hand as she was hauled back up to her feet. “Mm, can't have Obaasan waiting.”   
  
  
~Two days later.~   
  
A Yamaha XS 1100 growled up the street, where Ohori park could be seen from the right. The early sunbeams bounced off the black lacquered paint adorning the motorcycle. Minako had an iron grip around Toshiya's torso until he began slowing down and turned off the engine before it gave its last roar.

 

Toshiya turned around and grinned at Minako's expression.

 

“Mina-chan...you don't need to strangle my waist anymore.” Toshiya pointed out teasingly.

Minako hurriedly unlatched her hands from his torso and stuck out her tongue at him. 

“Well, I didn’t want to show up with a broken leg on my first day. Besides, I'm sure some part of you didn’t mind the slightest...Toshi-kun…” she muttered against Toshiya's ear, as she allowed her warm breath to fan against his cold skin. He shuddered as the warm air tilted along his ear, sensitive after so long under the constrictive helmet.

 

“Mina-chan… that's just gross! You’re my best friend, not my girlfriend.” Toshiya complained as Minako started giggling at his sour facial expression. 

 

“Haha, but it's so much fun, Toshi-kun… you are twenty-two, and when it comes to these things, you become a blustering mess. You haven't even had a girlfriend…”

Minako commented matter-of-factly as she took off the helmet and shook her hair only for it to tumble down from the top of her head. She pursed her lips, annoyed at the mess the helmet had made of her hair. 

 

Toshiya took off his own helmet but only ruffled through his warm locks before sighing at the gentle breeze circling through the air as a sigh filtered through his lips. “You know why, Minako; there's no one that would want to date someone like me, let alone marry me. Just because I'm going to take over, Yu-topia when that time comes.” 

 

Minako shook her messy head and smiled while she slid off the motorcycle seat. Her legs felt weird after sitting so long; normally it was short trips down to Hasetsu. She could use some stretches after an hour sitting on that seat, though.

 

She wrapped her arms around Toshiya again. “We both know that is not entirely true, Toshiya. I’ve told you to join me on group dates. But you always say no, and give the excuse that you need to help Aunt and Uncle. I do know Yu-topia has more staff than that,” Minako remarked. 

 

She had really tried like a good best friend should. She’d even tried to set Toshiya up with some of her high school friends. But every time he seemed to have a legitimate excuse. 

 

“I'm shy, okay? I don't really know how to talk to other girls,” Toshiya admitted.

 

Minako, though, clicked her tongue and answered, “You talk to me just fine.”

  
Toshiya gave a wry smile and said, “But Minako, I’ve known you since I was two years old.” 

 

“I know, but you know, I'm sure this summer will change your life,” Minako admonished with a grin.

 

“How can you be so sure of that?” he questioned, his expression thoughtful.

 

Minako took her bag and handed the helmet over to. Toshiya as she slung the bag, over her shoulder. “I just know these things. We'll eat something before we drive back home tonight, right?” she replied with a smile, though she wasn’t sure she could endure just two meals during the day. 

 

Toshiya packed away the second helmet and went to put his helmet back on his head. His part-time job for the summer was still another fifteen minutes away. “Of course, Mina-chan. We can talk about where to go when I pick you up, all right?” 

 

“Yeah, sounds like a plan,” Minako said as she watched Toshiya's foot stomp against the starter. The motorcycle's engine roared back to life. 

 

“Break a leg, Minako!” He shouted before he turned on the gear. And drove away from the building, that would be used as the Bolshoi Ballet's Summer camp.

 

Minako had picked up Toshi’s last shout of encouragement as she turned around and faced the building. She checked the time on her watch. Her eyes widened comically as she took one more look at the watch. 

 

“You must be joking. I'm an hour too early!” She shouted at her wristwatch.

 

She sighed, defeated. The shops around here wouldn’t open for another hour. But by then the summer camp would have begun. Her eyes found a bench not too far from the entrance door.

 

She walked up to the bench and sat down. Minako let her eyes wander, a few birds were chirping in a tree. Faintly she could hear classical music coming from the closed building, as her eyes looked up at the wall. Her gaze rested on a set of large windows, with stripes… no those had to be barres in a dance studio. Soon a female figure came into view. Preparing to settle into a very familiar ballet position.   

 

Up in the dance studio, the younger members of the Bolshoi Ballet finished their last rehearsal. Madame Katrina clapped her hands as the girls and four boys stopped in their positions and relaxed. 

 

“That will be all for now, our camp participants will be here in an hour! Until then take a break.” Katrina added before she walked out of the dance studio. 

 

<\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------>

 

The welcoming ceremony of the ballet camp had been successful – and the meetup was better than expected, especially since it was the first time the USSR had tried something like this. Lilia was pleasantly surprised by the amount of talent these Japanese dancers showed. 

 

_ If only… I could take some of them with me back to the Bolshoi. _ Lilia considered but she knew that would not be possible. 

I mean they

They were  _ Japanese _ , not Soviet comrades. Her green gaze followed her daughter's interactions. The camp had barely started and Yelena was becoming awfully friendly with the new students. 

 

Yelena brushed a few strands of hair from her forehead as she walked by the groups of students that had spread throughout the ballet studio. Yelena tilted her head to the side and observed as the same woman she had seen from the studio window that morning.

 

“You should join an international competition,” Yelena said in thick-accented English.

 

That caught Minako's attention as her back straightened up from its previous position. 

 

“Na..” Minako started but then realised, questioning the suggestion in Japanese wouldn't help. She had to remember some English in her college classes. 

 

“What? Do you really think so? I mean… I just like to dance.” Minako replied in a hurry; it was a bit embarrassing not being able to speak with the same confidence as she would have with her mother tongue. 

 

This ballerina from the Soviet Union did not show any sort of derision, nor the kind of overconfidence some of the other dancers showed. Instead, Yelena smiled and nodded excitedly.

 

“Yes, I truly believe you will do well internationally. Its Okukawa yes? Such a strange name…” Yelena replied although she frowned as she tried to pronounce the foreign name.

It was then that Yelena suddenly realised what she had said and hoped she hadn’t accidentally insulted one of the students.

 

A giggle reached Yelena's ears and saw the Japanese ballet dancer holding a polite hand in front of her mouth. 

 

“Hah! No, No I'm sorry… it's just the way you say my surname.” Minako suddenly bowed apologetically. She straightened up again, as the kind girl looked more than a bit confused at her display. 

 

“Ah, what I mean is… you call each other by your first names in the Soviet Union right? How about you try and say my first name, Mi..na..ko…” 

 

Yelena had been a loss for words as Okukawa bowed in front of her. She replied to the question thrown at her with a nod.  She repeated the name a few times in her head. 

 

“Mina...ko?” Yelena questioned watching Minako's excited nod of approval 

 

“Mm, good first try; better than what you did with my surname.” 

 

“My name is Yelena Baranovskaya-Feltsman,” Yelena introduced and watched as Minako tried to pronounce the  _ l _ of her name only to make it into an  _ r _ sound.

 

Even her two surnames sounded different in Japanese. Minako suddenly nodded and then pronounced the full name of what seemed to have become a new friend.

 

“Yu-re-na Baranofusukaya Ferutsuman.”

 

“That is my name in Japanese?”

 

“Yes. It’s not easy to say,” Minako muttered honestly.

 

“I know, I'm giving you a Japanese name! Let me see… yes! You are now Hiroko..!

 

Minako decided and grinned at the newly named Hiroko. 

 

“You gave me a name just like that? We barely know each other.” Yelena muttered. Most kept her at a professional distance because of who her parents were.

 

But this Minako Okukawa had jumped ahead and given her a Japanese name as if they had been friends for weeks, instead of just talking for only a few minutes. 

 

“You are more friendly than the other instructors. And not as bad as Madame Baranovskaya… wait; you two share the same surname.”

 

“Oh well, she's just one half that gave me life and carried me till I was born,” Yelena replied carelessly as she shrugged her shoulders.

 

“I guess you get compared to Madame Baranovskaya a lot, huh?” Minako remarked as an embarrassed blush crept up Yelena's cheeks. She was rarely this honest with a stranger. But there was something about Minako that was trustworthy.


	4. Summer Camp of 1986. A New love arises and onto April 1987 we go!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 end of the first arc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This concludes the end of the first arc. Was it what you expected?   
> Enjoy!

The first month flew fast for Minako. She was learning a new form and choreography every day under the strict discipline of the Bolshoi troupe. Lilia Baranovskaya was at a completely different level from the other instructors. Minako could barely see the difference between Madame Lilia and Hiroko. Their personalities were so different, yet there was this animosity. As if a high wall of bricks stood between mother and daughter. Hiroko was always so nice and friendly. Easily a favourite among the Japanese students, as she took her time to explain it slowly in English. 

 

Minako had even been able to drag Hiroko out and into the more local depths of Fukuoka. With great success too, as Hiroko had now been introduced to the Japanese cuisine. Hiroko, Minako had discovered. Was quite adept at learning languages. Just a few weeks into the second month of the summer camp and Hiroko could keep up with conversations among the Japanese students. But when Minako had tried to show her, how her Japanese name was written in kanji. 

  
  


Hiroko only gave her friend a very puzzled expression. “Let's go eat Hiroko, Toshi-kun said to meet him at the Ryoriya near Ohori Park.” Minako suggested, “But I still have my own practice after the camp is done for the day.” Yelena excused hurriedly as Minako simply raised one eyebrow. “It doesn't make sense that you would fear your mother scolding you. So then it must be..oh! Ohh! You like him!?” Minako surmised thoughtfully. 

 

As her eyes widened. A faint blush clawed up against Yelena's cheeks. 

 

“I don't…” She murmured. 

 

“Don't even try and hide it Hiroko. I have seen the way you look at him across the table.” Minako teased as a pessimistic look shadowed over Yelena's facial features. 

 

“And? In a month's time, I need to return to the Soviet and I won't be able to see him again.” Yelena quipped matter-of-factly. 

 

“Not if you marry him...then you can live in Japan.” Minako returned just as quickly and grinned at Hiroko's surprised look. 

 

“What marry!? My mother, my parents would never approve.” She protested as her complexion grew more embarrassed. 

 

“Since when did you follow your parent's orders?” Minako pointed out.

 

“Err, well I have been rebelling for a few years.” Yelena murmured. 

 

“Exactly my point Hiroko. Besides you like Toshi right?” Minako asked as she smiled at the girl she had come to consider too as a best friend.

“But, it's dangerous to rebel back home, if I had been caught by government officials. They would have sent me to a gulag or have me executed. Whether I like Toshiya or not, I could not force him to marry me just for me to get away.”  Yelena said and Minako shuddered, where she sat atop one of the flower bed walls. 

 

Over the past month, Minako had learned a lot more about the Soviet Union. She knew from the general worldview the Soviet Union were a dictatorship and had been for nearly seven decades now. But to hear how talented ballet dancers like Hiroko and performers at the Bolshoi and other athletes were used as government puppets. Simply to advertise the enforced propaganda to the general public. 

 

No, Minako did not want to think more about that. She squeezed her hand against Yelena and shook her head. “You really don't see it Hiroko?” Minako questioned and saw the puzzled expression paint itself over her friends face.“See what Minako?” Yelena asked. Minako slid down from her seat and onto the ground. As she shook her head and grinned. “Nothing, Hiroko. Come on Toshi will be done at work soon. We did promise to meet up with him.”

 

The two girls reached the traditional Japanese restaurant with some time to spare. And were greeted warmly by the owner of what had become a regular place to eat after a day with ballet practice. Toshiya would normally meet up with them after his part-time job was done for the day. 

 

Minako eagerly dragged Hiroko behind her towards their regular booth. Eventually, Toshiya joined them and they ordered some food to eat. The evening was a nice way, to have some fun. Before Toshiya and Minako had to get on the motorcycle back to Hasetsu. Toshiya absently brushed his foot against Yelena's, trying to encourage those shy sweet smiles he had come to like a lot over the past month. 

 

Minako chuckled at Toshiya's attempts at flirting, they were not the best. But it seemed to be enough to make Yelena blush faintly and laugh when Toshiya told them about a comical incident at his part-time job. When their food came, Minako grinned and gave Toshiya a well-meaning look. And hurriedly tilted her head in Yelena's direction. Toshiya frowned until Minako mouthed  _ Idiot! Help her. _

 

After that Toshiya was quick when he started showing Yelena how to hold the chopsticks properly, without accidentally insulting the dead. Yelena still found it weird to eat with wooden sticks. Her balance was a bit off but at least she could hold the food together now. Having Toshiya on the same bench, and Minako had quickly changed to sit opposite side of the table. 

  
  
  
  
  


The hours in the restaurant flew by quickly and it was then Minako checked her wristwatch. “The Last train goes back to Hasetsu in 10 minutes!” Minako shouted and it brought Yelena and Toshiya out of their enclosed sphere. “We can drive home Minako. You don't need to take the train.” Toshiya suggested, but Minako shook her head. 

 

“No, Toshiya. Spend some time with Hiroko tonight.” Toshiya stared at his best friend as a blush slowly crept up his cheeks. “Bu-t Mina-chan?” He questioned until Minako elegantly pointed at him. Nearly poked his nose too. “I say you two should spend some time together and you will!” She remarked with a grin, and turned on her heel and waltzed out of the traditional restaurant. 

 

Yelena blinked at the spot where her friend had stood. And left her alone with Toshiya.

“Is Minako always this, determined?” Yelena asked. 

 

“Ah, well Mina-chan has always been headstrong,” Toshiya remarked. He could feel the nervousness of being alone in the restaurant with Yelena, or Hiroko as Minako had named their foreign friend.

 

Minako was definitely more perceptive than she led others to believe. Truthfully Toshiya was not very social, it had been around middle school. When he stopped socialising with his classmates. Of course, he greeted them when he was spoken to. But he'd rather go home and help his parents than being dragged into a group mixer. 

 

Once Toshiya started his second year of high school, his classmates stopped inviting him. Toshiya always found a legit reason to decline. Some he had even ended up in the same homeroom class since they were in kindergarten. And the ones that he did know was regular tourists that would come to his family's Onsen every year. Or when the local townsfolk who would regularly gather to watch soccer matches. 

 

Minako was the one exception though, she never strayed far from Toshiya and made sure to force him through  _ Much needed socialising _ at least during every festival Hasetsu had throughout a year. She had even convinced him to travel with her all the way up to Tokyo and Kyoto one summer. 

 

Minako had done what she did best this time too, but this time there was a very attractive Russian girl at the centre. Minako had befriended, he did not refuse the foreign ballet dancer to join them for lunch. Over this past month.

 

It would not be polite, Yelena had proven, to be a very welcome breath of fresh air. To how very different she was compared to Japanese girls. Toshiya was not certain if he had understood Minako's knowing gaze, yes he knew he already liked Yelena. But did she like him back?

 

“Yelena...I..” Toshiya started, he might as well get this out of the way now. And then he could move on. He had little hope she was such an attractive ballerina from The Soviet Union. And he was just the heir to an Onsen in a rather remote part of Japan. 

Yelena smiled as Toshiya spoke to her, he was a so very different from the boys she knew in Russia. No matter how much Minako had teased and insisted she should just marry Toshiya and stay in Japan. She did like him, it was like small butterflies had begun to flutter in her belly. When Toshiya crossed her thoughts. He was polite, respectful but not demeaning. Yelena took one slow intake of breath, she was the daughter of Lilia Baranovskaya and Yakov Feltsman. If they were capable of being together and still have kept their respective careers.

 

It wouldn't be a catastrophe if her feelings were not returned? Well, maybe she would cry a little. “Toshiya, I like you a lot!” Yelena suddenly exclaimed in her slightly better Japanese. Her cheeks flushed at first expecting a no. Her chocolate brown eyes met with Toshiya's darker brown. A shy smile and faint blush dusting his cheeks. 

 

“Ah, well you know..I, I like you too,” Toshiya mumbled.  Embarrassed partially because the outburst may have disturbed the other customers. One quick glance at the owner seemed to be surprisingly pleased and winked.

 

Toshiya dared a chance to grasp Yelena's hand and she smiled. 

 

“I know a place where we can...ahem. Well, we don't have to if you don't I mean...I don't want to hurt...you or…” Toshiya started babbling nervously until Yelena laughed softly and hurriedly kissed him on the cheek. 

 

“I'm not that daft Toshiya, ballet is about passion, feelings and expression…” She whispered hotly against his ear. “To answer you, yes I'd love to.” 

<\-------------------------------------------------------------------->

The sun peeked through the clouds in the early summer morning. Heels echoed along the hallway until they abruptly stopped, stern eyes looked into the dance rooms where the Bolshoi dancers were doing their morning choreography. Roaming the room with her eyes, Lilia's lips pursed, there was one dancer missing. “Katrina a word!” All the dancers stopped and could not help but stare at the former prima ballerina.

 

They knew she was ruthless, she would break them and then make certain they became excellent ballet dancers. But it was rare she showed this amount of displeasure. A curdling omen shot up Katrina's back. Her gaze turned to see Madame Baranovskaya visibly, less composed than usual. She started walking out of the dance room but made certain to reprimand the dancers. 

 

I did not realise I was overseeing gawking hens. Continue with the choreography, and get to breakfast!" Soon enough the dancers returned to what they were supposed to do. Lilia motioned for Katrina to follow until they reached the room, the more experienced ballet instructors used as a break room. 

 

The door shut with a thud against its frame. “Where, is my daughter!?” Why is she not practising with the others!?" Lilia questioned. 

“Ma-dame Baranovskaya she was not in her room. When we woke them up.” Katrina replied nervously. She could be strict and stern but to see Madame Baranovskaya this openly angry. It was truly a frightening sight. “Very, well off you go. We cannot have any delays in today's lessons.” Lilia said dismissively. Madame Katrina inclined her head and headed out of the break room. While Lilia pursed her lips thoughtfully. 

 

“Alyona, did you not return last night?” She queried, her daughter had shown forms of being rebellious for a few years. But this? Yelena not showing up for practice, it was almost unheard of. Lilia tried to search for her daughter inside the building, but not one single hair of Yelena. She then decided to venture outside door, and that is when she caught the sight of her daughter. Snugly holding her arms around the waist of a boy. 

 

A sweet smile on her lips, and her hair in a highly inappropriate state. And a Japanese boy at that. As the pair walked inside the gates, Lilia stalked up to them her heels echoing against the pavement. Yelena's brown eyes widened, she was in deep trouble now. 

 

“Toshiya, you better go!” Yelena whispered quickly and felt the damp morning air slither against her side as she hurriedly moved her arms away from Toshiya's waist.

Toshiya gave her a puzzled and wounded look. “Hiroko, why?” He asked. 

 

When Yelena gave him a sad smile, she nodded towards the rather frightening woman. “That's my mother...she will not be happy about us..” Yelena muttered. 

 

Toshiya was about to ask why Hiroko's mother, would not be happy on her behalf? But before he could say a word he had a sharp finger accusing finger pointed at his face. 

 

“You! You, dare get close to my daughter! To ruin her life, her future!” Lilia accused, her English accent becoming more significant a few chosen accusations in Russian spilt from her lips. 

 

Yelena's cheeks reddened in anger and embarrassment, Toshiya understood some of the rants until even more foreign words entered his ears.”Mother, stop! Toshiya did nothing wrong!?” Yelena exclaimed as Lilia turned to face her daughter. 

 

“No, Yelena you do not understand you have been tricked. That Japanese boy is ruining your future, your career to become a prima ballerina.” Lilia tried to reason Yelena would not hear of it. 

 

“You know what mother? You are wrong! I'm in love with Toshiya and he is in love with me.”  

 

Lilia reached out and clutched her hand firmly around her daughter's wrist and tugged her to her side and a whimper escaped Yelena. “Ow mother! That hurt's let me go!” 

 

Toshiya had seen enough. “Stop this Baranovskaya-san! You are hurting her!?” Toshiya stepped up and tried to intervene, Yelena was holding her tender wrist. Before he could reach her side Lilia was in front of him.    
  


“You, you Jap!! Stay away from my daughter!”    
  
“I would nev-” Toshiya protested before he could finish his words.   
  
There was a firm echoing smack slamming against his cheek. It stung, it felt hot and Toshiya was shocked in his years he'd never gotten slapped before. Flimmer of tears gathered in his eyes as the pressure became more of a throbbing ache. 

 

The weakened protests of Hiroko filtered into his ears. And he was left alone and there was a more familiar voice getting closer. "Toshi, wait what happened to your face... you're all red!? Where is Hiroko!?"  

 

Inside the building, Lilia had reclaimed the grip around her daughter's wrist pulling her up the stairs and the light sniffles in the background.    
  
“Mother, how could you do that to him..he, did nothing wrong…” Yelena muttered as she tried to rub away the threatening tears dancing in her eyes. 

 

“You are too young to understand Alyona. I thought me and your father raised you better than this? And with a Jap! Alyona…” Lilia reprimanded until they had reached where Yelena had been sleeping for the past month.    
  
Pushing her daughter, stumbling in the room. “Pack your things, you are going on the next flight to Moscow,” Lilia ordered. 

 

“No! Mother, I'm no-” Yelena yelled.    
  
“Yes, you will! I am your mother, and I believe you have had quite enough of Japan for one month. It's time to go home, Yelena. I'll have your father pick you up.” 

 

With those words, Lilia shut the door and locked it. In case her daughter tried to do something stupid again. The thud bounced against the wall as Yelena now allowed her thick dropping tears to slither down her puffy cheeks. 

 

Sniffles and wet tears occasionally covered her belongings while begrudgingly packing her things away.    
  
“I..I'll never be able to see you again will I Toshiya...?” Yelena asked about the nearly vacant room.     

  
  
  
  


^April 1987, Moscow, Soviet Union;^

 

Yelena clutched a suitcase in her hand as she went up to the attendant. The attendant glanced quickly at the young woman's belly.    
  
His hands accepting the travelling papers while briefly skimming them. They appeared legal...and it had the right stamps too. 

 

“Amsterdam, Kuala Lumpur, Beijing, Osaka and Fukuoka?” He questioned in wonder, few bothered to travel this much unless they were on a business trip. And had the money to pay for such an extensive journey.    
  
The young woman nodded. “Are you certain, that is wise...in your condition I mean?” 

He queried, he wouldn't want to have an irate parent or husband complain to his employer. 

 

The young woman adjusted her the grip on her large suitcase. Covered in stamps and older flight stickers, she was well dressed too. 

 

There was a glimpse of dark blue fabric, peeking out from the opening of the young women's trench coat. Complimenting a matching blue skirt ending just below her ankles. 

 

“Yes, it should be fine,” Yelena said in a clipped tone. 

 

A shudder curled around the flight attendants shoulders. The sudden chill in the voice of such a good looking woman. He had not expected that. Then again she was pregnant had to be those pregnant hormones he surmised.    
  
As he stamped the additional confirmation on the young woman's passport.    
“Everything seems to be in order. Have a good flight.” A curt nod was all he received. 

 

His thoughts were puzzled for a few moments as he glanced back down at the copy of the travelling papers he had kept. 

 

“No way, I can't believe this!? That was...Yelena Baranovskaya-Feltsman. What on earth is she going all the way to Japan for? And she's pregnant-- but I saw her performing at the Bolshoi just two months ago. I couldn't see it at all..” 

 

He shook his head and glad, that there were no other passengers at the check-in desk. 

\------------------------------------------------------   
  


A chilling breeze played around with the leaves and cherry blossom petals in Yu-Topia Katsuki's courtyard. Toshiya held the broom in his hands and tried to sweep away the leaves from sneaking into the entrance hall of the family-owned onsen. 

 

The scent of his mother's cooking wafted around. Should be the breakfast, prepared for the salarymen that had been staying over the weekend. 

 

“Father is making breakfast for the three of us today,” Toshiya muttered, while he swept the broom over the courtyard. 

 

He looked up at the crisp blue sky as a sigh escaped his lips.“I hope she's alright after her mother slapped me. I never saw her again.” He muttered thoughtfully, the painful ache on his heartstrings did not help either.    
  
He felt guilty for letting Hiroko slip away from him so easily. 

He shouldn't have frozen up like he had. When the slap marked his cheek, he should have run towards Hiroko, grabbed her arm away from that stern mother of hers.    
  
But he no, he was shocked until Minako had called out to him. Toshiya shook his head, he couldn't dwell on this forever. 

 

Though his parents had been extremely worried when he returned home that evening with a bruised cheek. But, he shouldn't think more about that day now. It only made him sad and depressed. The sound of a few cars driving by the onsen was not that strange it was early in the morning after all. Probably on the way to their jobs down in Hasetsu. 

 

But then there was a groaning car motor, climbing up the hill. Toshiya knew that sound, only one particular Taxi driver had that kind of engine on his car. The old taxi seemed to puff out the last exhaust as it parked outside Yu-topia's gates. The voices were muffled until the metal slammed against the back. 

 

Toshiya looked up to greet their new guest. “Wel-” But the words quickly stopped in his throat as he saw none other than Hiroko. 

 

With a large suitcase in hand, and...her belly had grown bigger. Since he had last seen her, but oh she looked even more beautiful now. But he couldn't really fathom why this couldn't be a dream. 

 

The cold breeze was a fine reminder of that. Hiroko's footsteps quickened nervously and then she was face to face with the love of her life. Her heart thrummed against her chest, as her mind tried to think of the right Japanese words to use.

 

“Hello, Toshiya. It's been awhile.” Hiroko said, her cheeks grew red. 

 

Her Japanese had not been actively used in the past few months, though she had tried to practice. When she was alone in her room after a long day. 

 

“Hiroko-chan, you're really here?” Toshiya queried softly, he stepped forward. 

 

She was close, she was truly here. He dared to brush his fingers against her cheek. Hiroko smiled at the gesture and leaned against the caress. 

 

“Yes, I've- I mean..we have left the Soviet Union.” She muttered. 

 

Toshiya was quick to wrap his arms around her, nuzzling his nose against her brown hair.   
  
“We?” He asked gently. 

Hiroko gave a nervous smile and pointed down to her belly. “Oh, wait what...that's ours!?” 

He exclaimed as Hiroko's cheeks grew scarlet.

She was glad he did not sound angry or upset. “Yes, this little one is ours.”   
  


“Do your parents know?” 

 

“No, I did not start to show until three months ago. Though I moved out after what happened last summer. I've barely spoken to either of them since then.” 

 

Toshiya knew it couldn't have been easy for her to leave just like that. But to travel half-across the world. And show up here... 

 

He hugged her more firmly as he muttered gently against her ear.    
“I'm glad you came home to me. And even brought our child home..”    
The thought was dream-like he was about to become a father. 

 

“Toshi-kun, what is taking you so long to sweep outside today! Breakfast is--”    
Takeru interrupted as he opening the shoji door, to look for his son. 

 

Only to see his only boy wrapped around a foreign woman. And that look in his son's eyes. 

 

“Ah, you must be Hiroko-chan. We have heard a lot about you from Toshiya. You will be staying of course?” Takeru asked in such a way that it was difficult to say no. His eyes wandered to the young woman's belly.

 

Takeru's eyes lit up and expectantly looked at his son. Who gave a shy nod.   
“Dear, Toshiya's girl is here with our grandchild in her belly. Set the table for one more!” He shouted back inside. 

 

Hurried clacking footsteps echoed through the hallway. Katsuki Izayoi smiled kindly towards the young woman her Toshiya had set his heart on.    
  
And now with a child too. “Toshi, I thought we taught you better manners than this. She's pregnant, get her inside. Before she and the baby gets a cold!” Izayoi scolded. 

 

As Toshiya shyly took a hold of Hiroko's hand and led her inside Yu-topia Katsuki. Their new home.


	5. To have a Family, means to be there for each other.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some glimpse into Mari and Yuuri's childhood. Mari finds one that can understand her, Hiroko will have to summon the temper inherited from her parents. Such a deed is simply not acceptable!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is Chapter 5. And the official start of Arc two, hope you all enjoy.

It was a nice day in the little private garden of Yu-topia. Hiroko was relaxing outside in the early spring sun. There were no guests this week, until the soccer match later this evening. Toshiya would most likely want to watch that unless of course, Minako decided to drop by as she did every other day. 

 

To get a more than a bit drunk and bicker with Toshiya of the finer aspects of ballet and figure skating. Toshiya would passionately defend soccer and his favourite team. 

A shrieking giggle of protest brought Hiroko out of her thoughts as she found her daughter, Mari, wriggling back and forth on the grass. As her little brother, Yuuri used the expertise of every younger sibling. 

How to mercilessly tickle your older sister. “Yuuri!? Stop, stop I... “ Mari shouted before a new round. Of giggles prevented her next words to escape.

 

“Nu-uh neechan, you didn't say please..” Yuuri said matter of factly. His small fingers expertly tickled underneath Mari's arms. 

 

“Fff-ine...please stop! Yuuri please, stop!” As soon as the words were out of her mouth the tickling ceased. And a triumphant grin was on her little brother's lips. 

 

Hiroko allowed a small chuckle to escape her lips at the sight. Mari her's and Toshiya's firstborn daughter. Then seven years later little Yuuri had been brought into the world.

 

Sometimes it felt like a dream, the life she had been able to build here in Japan. Hiroko had made certain to legally change her name to Katsuki Hiroko as soon as her wedding to Toshiya were official. 

 

Despite that, Hiroko saw a lot of her own parents in her two children. Yuuri's determination, and the way Mari often would scowl when she did not like something. 

 

“Mama are you okay?” Mari asked, as Yuuri absently stuck his thumb into his mouth and decided to snuggle into his mother's lap. “Kaasan looks sad. Should not be sad on days with shiny sun.” Little Yuuri remarked. 

 

“Ah? Sorry for worrying you two, no I'm fine. I was just thinking of something sad.” Hiroko muttered. Mari tilted her head to the side her eyes set into an understanding look.

 

And then Mari decided to change the subject. “Can, you teach us more Russian?”

“Yes! More words, to learn!? Like, um...cat...and..tree... “ Yuuri supplied excitedly. 

 

Hiroko nodded and ruffled through Yuuri's hair as he giggled. 

 

“Of course, now how about I teach you this lullaby. It's called Tili tili bom.” It was a lullaby Hiroko remembered well, from when her life had been less from pressure. 

 

And her parents appeared to be home more often. The haunting melody despite its sinister warning gave Hiroko a rare bout of homesickness.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The ballet studio echoed with murmurs of thanks for the evening's lesson. Before every student except for one left the through the doors.

Minako looked back to see Yuuri still present. “Something on your mind Yuuri?” Minako asked as she gestured for him to sit down on the floor, the six-year-old did so without complaint. 

 

“Kaasan was a ballet dancer like you Minako-sensei?” Yuuri asked, only to see the surprised look his teacher gave him. “Ah, well I guess you could say that Yuuri,” Minako added nervously. 

 

Yuuri gave her an inquisitive look. “Kaasan, says talking about it hurts. And during the last competition, she cried when it was my number.” 

 

“Oh, Yuuri. You know, your mother had a time where she loved to be on the stage.”

“She did?”

 

“Yes, but well then she started fighting with Li...ahh your grandmother. And that is when your mother's joy on the stage disappeared. I know she's happy, you decided to continue with ballet Yuuri.” 

Minako had tried to comfort one of her favourite and most talented students. She had to bite down her tongue at the slip-up. It seemed it had gone over Yuuri's head.    
  


_ Good, that particular truth can wait. _

“But, I like to figure skate with Yuuko-chan too, though Nishigori-kun is always teasing me…”    
Yuuri said matter-of-factly. Minako couldn't help but ruffle the top of his head, not without some protest from Yuuri. “You know what I think Yuuri?” She questioned.

 

“No?” Yuuri mumbled as his hands tried to pat down his hair back into somewhat order again. 

 

“I think, that Nishigori-kun is too shy to tell you that he likes you as a friend. And that is why he teases you.” Minako explained and Yuuri scrunched up his nose at the very idea that Nishigori-kun really considered him a friend?    
  
Minako chuckled. ”We'll have to work on the choreography for your short programme. For the novice competition, I'd say around Thursday evening after school?” She queried and Yuuri nodded excitedly. 

 

“Yeah! Think I'll be able to land that toe-loop?” He asked as excitement filtered into his voice.

 

“We'll see Yuuri, but remember. If you feel you can do it take the chance, but you will still warm up with compulsory figures.” Minako supplied as she smiled fondly. The excitement Yuuri held for ballet and the ice, reminded her so much of when she first met Hiroko. 

 

A knock echoed inside the dance studio and Mari's head poked inside the sliding door. 

 

“Hello, Minako-Sensei. And Yuuri! I've been waiting outside on my scooter for twenty minutes. I'm getting hungry...mum is making a special dish from Russia for dinner…” 

Mari complained as Yuuri blushed. 

 

He did have a habit of losing track of the time when he spoke to Minako-Sensei. Minako couldn't help but see the subtle resemblance the two siblings shared with their grandparents. “Izvinite, sestra,” Yuuri mumbled sheepishly. 

 

Mari gave a wry smile as she said. “Vse v poryadke, davayte prosto vernemsya domoy.” Yuuri stood up and nodded. As he waved his goodbye to Minako and Mari gave a bow before the two siblings went out the door. 

 

Minako jumped up from where she sat and shook her head. “Hiroko might be my best friend, but I had enough trouble with English. Russian is just too difficult.” She muttered to herself as she started to go through the routines for closing the studio for the evening. 

<\------------------------------------------->

 

Classes were about to end. And the High School courtyard was getting crowded since lunch had just begun. The weather was nice after all. Katsuki Mari was content sitting alone with her mother's homemade lunch. “Fusion bento today Mama?” She asked the food laying still in its container a small smile on her lips. 

 

A pair of shoes disturbed the grass and Mari's eyes looked up to see a boy she had met on some group dates. “Hey, sorry to disturb you. But aren't you Katsuki Mari?, You're related to Katsuki Yuuri right?” He questioned. 

 

Mari raised one brow, it was not often people recognized her for that. ^ _ ” And here I thought he'd recognize me from the group date last month…”  _ Mari thought to herself. 

 

“Yeah, I'm his older sister,” Mari remarked, these types were often just people eager to get some sense of gossip. Her little brother was still a novice, but a good novice figure skater. One of the best in his group at that. 

 

“Wish him good luck from me and my family on the next competition.” He said as his short blond hair moved along with the breeze and covered his left eye. 

 

“Sure, Yuuri will be happy to hear people support him. You're Minami from 1-B aren't you?”  Mari said. 

 

“Yes, Minami Saito. Also, err want to go out on a date with me?” 

 

“Sure, on one condition…”  

 

“Ok, what do you want me to do?”

 

“Eat lunch with me.”

 

“Just...that? Eat Lunch with you?”  Minami found it hard to believe that Katsuki Mari of all people, she did have quite the reputation around school. Considering her appearance, her eyes were a strange golden hue of brown. 

 

She had dark brown hair, mixed with black hair strands in odd sections. When she had dyed the lower half blonde, gossip had flared to life and rumours had it *one with her heritage.*

 

Was destined to become a future gang member. It made her stand out, she was different. Katsuki Mari simply wanted to eat lunch with him and then he'd be able to take her out on a date. 

 

“Yes, eating lunch alone every day is boring. But I scare people you know.” Mari murmured absently. Minami sat down and opened his own lunch box, he gave her a beaming smile.

“They're just scared of what your gang will do…” He quipped and saw a small smirk cover her lips. “Oh? So they've decided I have a gang now? Honestly, I just want to finish high school as soon as possible. Go to a University nearby, get some business degree and then back home to work alongside my parents at Yu-topia. All these rumours floating around is just, ugh…” Mari groused. 

 

Minami nodded eagerly. “Yeah, I got it. My hair's naturally blond right? But everyone thinks I dyed it. I can't help that my grandparents decided to marry.”

“Which side for you?” Mari queried. 

 

Minami paused and said. “My grandmother, she was from...Norway.”

 

Mari grinned. “Really? Guess that makes us neighbours then…”

“What? How...I don't live near Yu-topia at all!?” Minami protested. 

 

A wry grin crossed her features as she supplied. “What I mean is, I'm half-Russian and Norway and Russia share a border. Like way at the edge of Norway's northernmost corner. So that sort of, make us neighbours you know?”    
  
“Haha! That makes sense, yeah guess we're half neighbours together.”

 

“Together...?”

 

“Hey...don't back on your word now Katsuki. You said you'd go on a date with me if I ate lunch with you. That means we'll be together…”

 

“I won't, but about us being together...we'll see how you do during our date. _ Then, we can consider possibly being together... _ ”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

^Late July 2000.^

The rain was in a torrential downpour, as two pairs of wooden sandals hurried inside the genkan. A see-through umbrella shared between them. Mari's usual hairstyle was soaked through, has her odd tresses clung to her neck. Minami was slightly better off, but the edge of his shoulders had gotten a bit wet. “Wow, I thought it would have stopped by now. It's already July…” Mari complained as she held a grocery bag in her hands. 

 

“Good thing I walked by the station then. So I could aide my lovely duchess,”  Minami replied smoothly and gave her a peck on the cheek. 

 

“Smooth talker...I'm not royalty…” Mari mumbled.

 

“You are to me Mari-chan,” Minami muttered hotly against her ear. Mari felt her cheeks grow warm. She honestly couldn't have asked for a better boyfriend. He was sweet, honourable. And he accepted her preferences for her own gender. Minami did not care she was  _ half-Japanese. _ Neither did she care that he was half slashed, quarter Norwegian and still somewhat more Japanese than her. 

 

“Sai-” She began but was interrupted, by something crashing in the direction of the kitchen. 

 

“Hey, everything alright in there?” Minami asked. 

 

“Err...it's probably nothing. But I better get inside, see you at the festival in a few days?” 

Mari shrugged it off and smiled. 

 

“O'course, but first I'll steal this…” Minami muttered confidently and gave her a kiss on the lips. 

 

Until he turned on his heal and waved good-bye. 

 

“Saito-kun you're impossible!” Mari shouted into the curtain of the rain. 

If she listened closely she could hear him chuckling on the opposite side of the fence.    
  


 

Inside Yu-topia's kitchen, the atmosphere was tense Toshiya humbly sat in dogeza, the regret in his eyes was evident. Katsuki Hiroko was struggling to not throw another serving plate crashing to the floor. 

 

“Just...what did you just say To-shi-ya....” Hiroko said through her pursed lips, cheeks flushed with anger. 

 

“Hiroko, please forgive my lowly self as a disgraced man! I've done you a great dishonour by sleeping with another woman Hiroko!” As those pleading eyes looked up at her. 

 

“Thirteen years...Toshiya....and you cheat!? I thought you were better than that.” 

Hiroko said, she sounded disappointed. And infuriated with her husband at the same time. 

 

“I know, I know, I was a huge idiot I should never have accepted that shot challenge. With that vodky drink.” Toshiya muttered apologetically. 

 

Hiroko grabbed a hold of another serving plate and slammed it against the wooden floors, that shattered to a thousand pieces, Toshiya flinched. 

 

In all their years he had never seen Hiroko look remotely similar to the rage that had fueled her mothers all those years ago. 

 

“It's vodka!” Hiroko snapped. 

 

“And you Katsuki Toshiya...know far too well, how badly you tolerate alcohol. It better not happen again or I'll leave with Mari and Yuuri.” She threatened. 

 

Fixing her husband with a weakening glare. “I swear, my only love is you Hiroko. That Russian woman...means nothing to me.” Toshiya queried. It had been so stupid. Of course, his  _ pride _ had gotten in the way of his sensibilities. And the love of his life, despite all the simmering anger within her eyes. Gave him another chance? 

 

“Hiroko, you mean you'll forgive me?” He queried hesitantly. None of the inn's serving plates suffered more damage. So that might be a good sign. 

 

“Not right now, but I'll give you a chance to earn back my trust in you.” Her hands tightened at her sides and teasing drops of tears threatened to spill from her eyes. 

 

She had never expected to go through something like this, it stung like a dagger through the heart. 

 

The sliding door opened into the kitchen and could now truly see how the kitchen fared. 

_ Well, there went those serving plates. Need to buy new ones. _ She thought to herself as she fixed her disapproving brown eyes on her father. 

 

“That is just fucked up old man. You better tell Yuuri about this, cause I'm not taking on your fuck up…” Mari remarked.


	6. The Terrible Mistake Occurs.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We go back a few weeks to see where Toshiya went wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for Chapter 6 hope you enjoy reading!

Katsuki Toshiya had just walked out of the busy conference hall where he had been in an important meeting concerning possible sponsorship from a few tourist agencies in Moscow. Toshiya had a good feeling about this, these Russians seemed inclined to the concept of natural hot springs. 

 

And compared to the more expensive spa centres in Russia. The ones around his homely Saga Prefecture seemed to be appealing to the Russians.

 

Tourism toward the hot springs had declined a lot in the past decade alone, which is why Toshiya had been asked if he could represent their Prefecture in Moscow. 

Seeing as he was the 5th generation Innkeeper of Yu-Topia Katsuki in Hasetsu, Japan. 

 

The prefectural tourism officials had found it appropriate to ask Katsuki Toshiya to become the spokesman for the proceedings of possible cooperation between Moscow Oblast and Saga Prefecture. And well here he was.

 

The hotel's lounge was not overly crowded. But after so many hours inside that conference room. 

 

Toshiya decided that a few drinks by the lounge bar could not do much harm. Around his 5th beer, Toshiya began to feel a slight difference in his perception. 

 

His dark eyes did catch the sight of a particularly fair-haired woman with the most captivating blue eyes Toshiya had ever seen. / _ Is there flecks of green in those eyes or is it...just this Russian beer getting to my head? _ / Toshiya pondered while he gingerly sipped the remainder of his beer. 

 

Suddenly the melody of  _ Journey to the Past _ and an angelic voice echoed in his ears, Toshiya could not remember since he last felt this enraptured by a woman. Except for maybe the time, he married Hiroko of course. And when Mari and Yuuri had been born. The blonde haired woman up on the small stage shared a smile with her quaint audience. But Toshiya could not help but feel that the coy smile was meant for him?  

 

The applause filtered through the hotel lounge as the song ended. Beige heels clicked against the wooden floor, as its owner's feet approached the bar. Toshiya turned to meet the enchanting blue eyes, of the Russian singer. “You sing very well,” Toshiya complimented with accented English. 

 

“Yes, Thank you.” The blonde demurely replied. 

 

As she sat down on a barstool beside Toshiya. She summoned the bartender and ordered a clear looking drink.

 

_ It looks like sake, but the smell is different. _ Toshiya observed.

 

And the blonde woman threw her head back and swallowed the contents of the clear liquid as if it was water. Those peculiar blue-green eyes glanced towards the older foreigner.

One blonde brow raised in question. 

 

“Not seen a girl take a shot of vodka before?” She asked.  

 

“Ah, can't say I have,” Toshiya muttered as he felt a blush climb up his cheeks, he decided to blame that on his Kyushu..heritage. 

 

They were well known for their drinking, but he had yet to make an utter embarrassment of himself. The facial features of his kind wife appeared before his eyes. Until his thoughts were interrupted.

 

“I bet I can drink more vodka than you…” uttered the blonde singer in a teasing tone. Toshiya's pride bristled at the challenge, not many could drink him under the table, back home in Hasetsu. 

 

“Challenge accepted…” He hurriedly replied, only to see a lovely smile gracing the blonde woman's lips. Calling for the bartender to prepare their vodka shots.

  
  


~8 hours later the blonde girl's hotel room~

 

Dark brown eyes looked over the sleeping form, a soft smile on her lips and blonde locks curled along her neck. Toshiya shifted and sat upright in the small hotel bed, shaking his head between groans. 

 

“This was a mistake...I'm so very sorry. I should have....” Toshiya muttered in Japanese, it was not much he remembered from the evening before. 

 

He had gotten drunk, and then... 

In his mind's eye, he could recall a few glimpses of how it had all begun in the lift, and how they had supported each other up to their respective rooms. There was a skip in his memory after the lift had started for the upper floors, but he recalled the accidental starting kiss . 

 

Instead of pushing away they continued and giggled. Before Toshiya found a few blanks...until his mind's eye supplied a few suggestive memories of some very intimate positions she and Toshiya had engaged in, a few hours prior.

 

The mattress shifted and the young Russian curled against the warmth of Toshiya's back.

 

Glancing down, he could feel guilt. “She's so young....and slept with old me? I'm sorry...Oh!?

Hiroko-chan what have I done… I’m a terrible husband.” 

He muttered again. 

 

Rising from the bed, he began looking after his clothes in the hotel room. It took some time until he was able to find all his clothes. “No, good I need to get back to my room and change. Can’t look like this..” 

 

He did have a lunch meeting with some tourist agencies in the hotel dining room. Would not do well to look unkempt, when he was trying to make a good impression on a future source of tourists.

 

Toshiya's fingers brushed against a black string with a dark green jewel shaped like a predator's sharp canine. Gently he snuck the familiar necklace around the blonde woman’s neck as it rested around her pale neck. Toshiya caressed his hand over her cheek. 

 

“I hope that Magatama will bring some good fortune in your life.” 

 

The thirty-nine-year-old innkeeper uttered before he closed the door shut. And the guilt curled and twisted in his belly.

 

It did not take long before the blonde woman on the bed stirred, and reached out with her arm only to find the duvet covering her body. 

 

Blue-green eyes fluttered open. “He's not here....did not even get his name....” She muttered, her brows furrowed and looked down at the green gem around her neck.

 

“....he was wearing this....” 

Unlike her one night lover, the blonde vividly recalled much of the details from the previous night. Her fingers traced over the necklace. 

 

“I should have known better...but of course he just left like that!” She groused and slammed her hands against the big pillow. 

 

“This...Vera...must be the most miserable mistake you have done, I was so focused on my career...first charming foreigner...and I get in between the sheets.” 

 

Vera morosely scolded herself. While she had a feeling her father would give her a similar lecture. If Vera decided to tell him. “Well, what daddy does not know...cannot harm him.”


	7. Vintage Car and Sealing her Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack! Everything has been such a mess since I last posted a chapter and you know what I find today? That chapter 7 and 8 is already done! So I hope you enjoy the revelations to come...

One old blue Trabant 601 rolled into the parking lot. And the exhaust coughed before the motor was turned off. Two doors opened and showed one young woman and an elderly man stepping out on the asphalt. And walked inside the clinic. No more than 15 minutes later her name was called... _Vera Plisetsky, the doctor can see you now._

 

One old hand took a hold of Vera's as she rose from her seat. 

"Dad, you don't have to come inside. I'm a grown woman now." Vera muttered with a smile. 

Nikolai wryly shook his head

"Verochka...you will always be my little girl. I want to know what the kind Doctor has to say."  Vera...really could not deny her father when he used that tone. Into the doctor's office, they went and were greeted by a jovial man in a white coat and health shoes. 

Gesturing with his hands the two Plisetsky's sat down in the chairs.

 

"I'll have to say, Vera, when you came here two weeks ago with your symptoms. I also assumed it to be stress, only to find that you have something very common for young women your age!" 

 

The Doctor happily clapped his hands together, and Vera could not understand why he would be so happy about the results. Nikolai frowned and could not understand why his friend looked so excited at the prospect of his only daughter being sick. 

 

"Now listen here Illya....this is no joking matter." 

He muttered matter of factly, only to be given one of those knowing looks. 

 

"Oh, Kolya I should congratulate you on becoming a grandfather before me!"

 

Illya informed happily...Nikolai was further into his objections of his friend's joke until it clicked inside his mind. "....yes, yes that is all well....wait for what! I can't become a grandfather...." 

Nikolai paused and suddenly shouted his daughter's name. "Vera!..." His grey eyes sought out the confused and equally surprised blue-green eyes. Who had her hand over her stomach. "I'm going to......have a baby?" She questioned not quite believing that result.

 

And here she had suspected she was carrying some unknown illness. "Yes, you most certainly are Vera. And three months along from what I can tell from the tests too." Illya informed matter of factly. There was one question he had to ask her though. "Who is the father?" 

 

Vera's cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. She had tried to suppress the incident of her one night stand with the Japanese foreigner. Continued as per usual, eating right, done her early morning jog and showed up for her shows. But now she was carrying his child, this she had not expected. 

 

"I don't know...his name, all I do know is that he is Japanese...we never reached the point of introducing ourselves," Vera muttered and she realised there would be no point in trying to lie.

 

Nikolai was about to scold Vera but decided against it. "Vera...why did you not tell me?" He questioned instead.

 

"I did not think it was anything important...it was just one night. And, well it was not like I'll see ever meet him again." Vera said with a shrug of her shoulders.

 

"I see, ah well we better set you up with some check-ups in the near future Vera. Unless you do not want the baby? Giving up the baby to adoption?"

Illya asked quite professionally. 

 

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled nervously. Would she manage to go through an abortion? Or even going through with the pregnancy for then to give her baby away? On the other hand, having the baby, would not be good for her career. But could she live with herself if she decided not to have the baby? With the knowledge that she and her one-night lover had created this life growing inside her? But to have someone else raise her baby? Would her baby have a better life without her? Vera frowned and then thought of her father, it wouldn’t be bad. To give her father a grandchild to dote on. A small giggling baby she could tell old folktales too, or teach how to sing when they were old enough? Was she even capable of being a good mother? Vera thought for a good few minutes about this, eyes glancing to see her father’s neutral expression. 

 

And at the kind Doctor Illya, awaiting her answer. "Of course you do no..." Illya began but was sharply interrupted.

 

"No! I want the baby!" Nikolai let out a soft sigh, though he would have supported his daughter if she had wanted to give up on the child. But the thought that he was going to be able to see his grandchild grow up. "Excellent decision Vera, now let me see here..." Illya trailed off as they began setting up for a session and where Vera was given a few pamphlets about pregnancy. 

 

Back in the car and closer to his daughter's apartment, grey eyes watching the fond smile over Vera's expression. As she leafed through the pamphlets. But as Nikolai refocused on the road ahead, one thought of realisation struck him. "You are moving back home Vera. I will not have you live in that place you call an apartment while you are carrying your first child, and my grandson." 

 

"Dad!?, just because I'm pregnant I will not be helpless," Vera muttered rather annoyed at the implication she could not look after herself and the baby. "Verochka..." Nikolai started, "I'm not saying you don't know how to take care of yourself. But, please Verochka for this old man's heart....come back home?" 

"Oh fine dad, but you know it can't happen right away? There's the contract on the apartment, and I need to talk to the house owner..." 

 

"I know Vera, but for this I want you two to come home." Nikolai murmured as he steered the car along the small parking slot in the street right outside his daughter's apartment. Vera smiled and kissed her father's cheek. "I'll talk to you soon dad, thank you..." She added lastly as she glanced down in her lap. "For what Vera?" 

 

"You know, for coming with me to the clinic today..." 

"You are my only daughter Verochka, of course, I wanted to be there. I'm happy we found out the actual cause of it. Oh! I'm going to be a grandfather!" Nikolai chirped, gave a short wave of his hand and restarted the engine of the car. Vera watched her father drive away until she turned on her heels and walked up to her apartment door. "Don't worry little one, I and your grandfather will make sure you have a good start at life in this difficult world." She muttered as she stroked over her stomach in wonder. 


	8. Little Yuri cannot Escape his mother's gaze!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure some of you have already suspected this since some chapters ago. But yes it is now confirmed. But my web is not finished yet.

~10 years later, Moscow, Russia~

 

The kettle was on the stove and assorted jars of teas and jams lined up along the kitchen counter. Vera was bustling around the small kitchen, sometimes stretching her hands to reach for something up on the shelves. The light footsteps and the familiar slam of the entrance door greeted Vera's ears. 

 

"I'm home Mama, Ded'ka!" Shouted a young blond boy with the same blue-green eyes as his mother. 

 

Eagerly kicking off his shoes, as they bounced against the wall and fell in a small pile on the floor. "Yuri..put those shoes on the rack!" Vera shouted from the kitchen and Yuri cursed lowly under his breath. 

 

"How can she...tell, does she have eyes on the wall.." Yuri groused as he begrudgingly picked up his shoes. And placed them on the shoe rack. 

 

"I heard that Yuratckha!" Yuri hunched his shoulders and closed his eyes when he heard his mother. Catch him with an almost rude sentence. He had not even said a bad word how could she know? 

 

Yuri decided to debate his mother's, possible mind reading powers at some other time. He hoisted his rucksack on his shoulder, heavy with school books even when summer was approaching. In Yuri's left hand was another heavy bag clutched tightly. Slightly heavier than his school supplies were his figure skates. 

 

Yuri dropped off his school things and his skating bag in the bedroom. Only to see the tufts of white and black fur covering his pillow. "Not again Potya, that pillow is mine..."

Yuri complained all he received was a pair of blue slitted eyes and a flick of Potya's tail before the cat snuggled into the pillow again.

 

Yuri huffed and left Potya on the pillow, he had learned his lesson by trying to remove her before. Those scratches had hurt for a few days. Yuri decided to change his clothes, they smelled like the changing rooms at the rink. Which had that strong scent of deodorant some of the older boys loved to spray all over the benches and along the lockers.

 

Yuri wrinkled his nose, while he threw his shirt expertly into a basket in the corner by the door. It felt nice to have fresh clean clothes, even if they were a bit worn out. Though the hoodie he pulled on was fairly new, it even had cool tiger stripes strewn across the torso. Yuri had been allowed to buy it after he won a gold medal at the novice competition.

 

He had not expected to get so much attention after his win. It was not the first time he had won either, but apparently, some important people had been watching his performance. "Yakov Feltsman..." Yuri mumbled he had heard that name many times in passing. 

 

But it was not until his last competition his skating instructor had pulled Yuri aside and introduced Yuri to the older man. He had given Yuri an invite to participate in his summer camp and depending on how well Yuri did there. Yakov had said something about wanting to become his official coach.

 

Yuri remembered his grandfather's awestruck expression when he shook hands with Yakov Feltsman. His mother had been more cautious, it was not often she had time to attend her son's competitions. But the time she had, her son had been scouted by one of Russia's most notable figure skating coaches. The hoodie was soft against his warm skin. 

 

As Yuri walked into the living room, where his mother sat on the sofa with a cup of tea in her hands. And the strange curved gem nestled around her neck. For as long as Yuri could remember, she had always had it.

 

"A few more hours and the soup will be ready Yuri. Come have a cup of tea with me?"

Vera said and gestured for Yuri to sit beside her. Yuri shrugged off his hoodie, it was not good manners to cover his head while having tea.

"Where is ded'ka?" He queried as he took a seat beside his mother.

 

"On his annual fishing trip with Doctor Illya. He promised to bring back a big one for us." Vera informed as she pointed at which tea her son wanted. "Black tea and strawberry jam Mama," Yuri answered, but as she had only a small amount of jam on the tea-spoon.

Vera could see the disappointed look before she plopped a larger serving of strawberry jam into her son's teacup. Watching that excited smile, made her heart warm at the sight.

 

/I have gone soft with Yuri./ Vera thought wryly, while she gave Yuri his teacup.

 

Watching as he relaxed against the worn sofa's back. "So ded'ka is going to be away for two weeks. Will you be home more?" Yuri questioned as he was met with the same blue-green eyes. 

Vera sighed, even after giving birth to her son. She had not given up on her career, but because of that, it had been her father. Who had taken more care in raising her son, but she had decided early on. To tell Yuri things as they were and not keeping any secrets from him. 

 

"Yuri...you know I can't stay home for long...the shows have already been booked."

"I see," Yuri remarked while the hold around his teacup tightened.

 

It was unfair at times, sometimes Yuri had to wonder if his mother really loved him? She was gone often months at a time, but somehow a few weeks just before the summer holidays. His mother would be home more often. And then his grandfather would drive out to an old farmhouse five hours away from Moscow. To fish with his best friend.   

 

"But, I did get a message from my manager, that the two late performances are going to be cancelled this year. Because of renovations, so instead of just two weeks. I'll be home for a whole month." Vera could not really blame Yuri for having such a clipped tone. She was not home often and had missed out on some important things in her son's life. But it was her father who encouraged Yuri to continue figure-skating, a passion Yuri heartily had inherited from his side of the family. 

 

Vera had never had much of an interest in the sport. Vera had been drawn to a different performance stage. The times she had seen her son's triumphant grin when he came home with a gold or silver medal around his neck. Only to have her very own eyes return a painful look.

 

Vera knew it was because she had not shown up. But the rare times she was able to experience the same expressions her father would gush about on the phone. She had no doubt she made the right choice all those years ago. Yuri was surprised. Did he hear right? /She will be home for an entire month!/ 

 

"You are really going to be home for the next month?" Yuri asked. 

 

"Yes, I know it is a bit unusual. But I'm glad I can have this month with you. Before you go to that Yakov Feltsman summer camp in St.Petersburg." Vera admitted, her son's teacup echoed as it hit the wooden table. 

And Vera felt her son's arms around her waist. Glancing down she watched Yuri snuggle against her, making his blond hair strands become a bit static against the blouse she wore. 

"I miss you. You always travel, leaving me and ded'ka behind." 

 

"Oh, Yuratchka...If I could I would have taken you with me. You had to attend school. And it would be very little time for you to slide across the ice. Not all the cities I travel to, have a rink you know." Vera remarked as she brushed her fingers through Yuri's blond locks. 

 

"But I love figure-skating," Yuri remarked. 

 

"I know, and so does your grandfather. But Yuri, there's something I promised to tell you...when you were old enough." Vera suddenly changed the subject she felt nervous about this. 

 

Not that she knew all that much, but she had deflected the questions long enough. Her son deserved to know the other half of him. Blue-green eyes looked up expectantly, he remembered that promise. Yuri was about to learn about  _ him, his birth father... _

 

"You will tell me about him?" Yuri asked carefully, only to receive a nod from his mother. 

 

"Yes, I better start with how we met don't I?" Vera began as she felt an eager nod from her son. 

 

"Well, it was during a performance at a hotel here in Moscow. The way he looked at me, it caught my attention. Once my number was done I walked over to talk to him and challenged him to a drinking contest." 

 

"Who won?" Yuri interrupted as his mother laughed. 

 

"Who do you think? Me of course! After that, I and your father began to kiss..." 

 

"Yuck!" Yuri shouted and stuck out his tongue. While Yuri's pointed nose stuck out in the air, as he crossed his arms over his chest. Vera could not resist the snicker that escaped her lips. At her son's predicament, perhaps it was best to wait with those details. 

"Alright, alright I'll spare you from that information till you get older," Vera said consolingly. Yuri huffed in agreement. 

 

"Ok, after that we went into the lift. And I was about to go to my hotel room. When your father could barely stand on his feet. I offered that he could sleep in my room for the night. But well that soon changed we the..." 

 

"You fucked." Yuri blurted out as he noticed the shock paint itself over his mother's face. Surprisingly she did not scold Yuri for using such a word. Vera nodded and ruffled Yuri's blond locks. 

 

"Yes, we fucked. And that is how you were born." She added before she hugged her son close to her chest. 

"He left us..." Yuri muttered accusing. 

"I only got to know your father for a few hours Yuri. And what we did was stupid and a mistake." Vera admitted as she watched Yuri's expression becoming sad and thoughtful.

 

"Is that why you are never home. Because I'm that mistake Mama?" He asked softly, his heart hurt at the thought. 

 

"What?! Yuratchka, no, no you are the best gift I could get from, that one night with your father." Vera had not expected her little ice tiger to think about it in that way.

 

/ _ Yuri is only ten - years- old! Just wait till I get a hold of those who put those thoughts in his head.. _ ./ She could very much agree with her thought. 

 

But when she refocused on her son. Vera could see the shimmering edge of tears gathering in the corner of her son's eyes. Her thumb brushed away the tears as Yuri sniffed. And Vera brought him closer, she leant down and kissed Yuri's forehead. 

 

"Don't even think that you are a mistake, my strong Ice Tiger. You hear me Yura?" Vera admonished. 

 

Yuri nodded, for a moment he had thought that what the other children at school had thrown his way over the years.  Their parents really did not understand how keen Yuri's ears were when conversations about him started floating around the corner.

*That Plisetsky boy does not have a father in his life.* 

 

*Vera Plisetsky, spreading her legs for the first man that gives her some attention. And then...she has that man's son!* 

 

*You don't live with your real family do you, Yuri? I mean, you don't have a dad like the rest of us.* 

 

*Vera would have been better off giving that boy to a proper family. Not raising him along with her own father. How is Nikolai even able to keep up with that Yuri.* 

 

*Rumour has it Yuri Plisetsky was born out of wedlock. Has she no shame that woman?*

 

It hurt to just listen and being ignored. When Yuri was obviously listening or were the adults just that blind and stupid? He knew nothing he said would change their minds.

This is one of the reasons why Yuri liked figure-skating. And the others at the local rink were nice enough. They did not care about Yuri's background. No, what they cared about was his love for the frosty surface and all the slitting and cutting shapes Yuri could make with his skates. 

 

His ears picked up the sounds of rustling fabrics and then the blond boy felt an unfamiliar weight around his neck. Blue-green eyes caught his mother's arms returning to hug him. Then Yuri looked down and saw the dark green tooth necklace.

 

Vera always had around her neck. But now it was on his own. "Mama, this is yours," Yuri remarked confused only to see his mother's smile. 

 

"Your birth father wore it the night we met. And when I woke up the next morning, I had it around my neck. And your father, well he had already left." 

 

Yuri thought about his mother's words. He could not truly understand why. "But why are you giving this to me?" 

 

"Yuratchka, he walked out because of what the two of us did. And there was no way for me to try and contact him. Your father does not know, I was pregnant with you Yuri. But I think he would have wanted you to have this." Vera recounted as her son's sniffles subsided. 

 

And his hand took a hold of the dark green tooth in the palm of his hand. Blue-green eyes studying the smooth polished surface. 

 

"My only connection to my birth-father is through this tooth," Yuri mumbled. 

As he leaned against his mother's embrace.

"It's not much Yura, but I promised you the truth. Sadly, that necklace is the only clue I have. But if you look closely does it not look like a predator's fang?" Vera pointed out and her son seemed to like the necklace a lot more after that.

 

Predators were super cool. Just like a tiger or a lion. 

 


End file.
